The Etiquette of Sport
by Jac Danvers
Summary: Growing up in the shadow of your parents' misgivings is never easy. Neither is playing Quidditch. But sometimes you find that one person who can help you make it through. Scorpius/Lorcan for M&MWP challenge on HPFC.


**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Harry Potter. The Lorcan/Scorpius pairing is part of Mew & Mor's Weird Pairings, and this story is my one shot submitted for their challenge. All words in italics are adapted from "The Etiquette of Sport," which was published in 1911. **

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><p><em>Out of door sports have become very popular in this country, it is perhaps needless to say.<em>

To say the awarding of the Ravenclaw seeker's position to Lorcan Scarmander came as a shock to those who knew him… well, that was an understatement. With parents who kept their feet planted firmly on the ground [though their heads were lost somewhere far up in the clouds- or maybe further] and a twin brother who was excused from flying class on account of the Wrackspurt Incident [which may have left several muggle-borns scarred for life], the chances that Lorcan might be a hot shot on a broom with an eye for a spritely gold snitch seemed highly unlikely.

But Lorcan lived up to his name- _the fierce one- _and to the tradition of Ravenclaw cleverness, both on and off the pitch. After all, every school needed its big man on campus, and there was always room to prove the masses wrong.

_Sports should be pursued as amusements and not as the serious business of life._

Fun? Whoever said it was all fun and games had bollocks for brains. If you asked Scorpius Malfoy, Quidditch was more than a pastime. More than an inter-house competition for school year glory. Quidditch was a fight for redemption when your family was disgraced by both sides. When your father walked with his head down, and your mother spent her nights crying because her high hopes had been dashed. When your two-faced housemates talked behind your back because your father and grandfather groveled instead of dying for a cause.

He might have inherited the lanky, sallow looks of his father, but Scorpius was stronger than Draco Malfoy would ever be. And he proved it with every swing of the beater's bat when he took to the pitch.

_The true sporting spirit is a thing to be admired, for courage and other high qualities underlie it_

Needless to say, when Madame Hooch posted the match schedule for the year, the announcement that the first game of the season would be between Ravenclaw and Slytherin came as an unwelcome surprise to both houses.

With rumors of Lorcan's ace ability as a seeker circulating in every classroom, Bruce Paget, the Slytherin captain, was in a right tizzy that Ravenclaw might have a chance of getting out of its four year losing slump. He'd wanted time- time to observe, to strategize, to capitalize on any perceived weaknesses in the new seeker. Time that he just wasn't going to get.

Unless he had a spy.

"Trust me," Bruce told Scorpius reassuringly. "You won't get in trouble. Besides, you _do _want to be a part of this team, don't you?"

He did. Desperately. Anything to be accepted, just for once, by his peers.

It was under these circumstances that Scorpius Malfoy found himself sneaking into the announcer's box of the Quidditch stadium, just moments before the Ravenclaw team emerged from the locker rooms for practice, to gather information about the enemy.

_Do your best to win by all fair means, but never by unfair or doubtful ones._

Meanwhile, Carl Kingsley, seventh year captain of the Ravenclaw team, had been riding high on the thought he might finally have his chance for Quidditch glory. Lorcan was the secret weapon they'd been missing, would be the key to finally getting them out of this losing slump. He'd naturally assumed they'd face Hufflepuff for the first game of the season, not the reigning Qudditch champions.

Suddenly, another year of loosing seemed all together possible.

Carl wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw because he was another pretty face. Neither was Lorcan. Knowing that the Slytherin team would likely be up to no good, they realized that the seeker's talents had to be kept a secret. So they reserved the practice field during the late evening for the entire team, using polyjuice potion to make one of the reserves look like Lorcan. Then, after midnight, the true Lorcan would practice under the cover of darkness.

It was for this reason that Lorcan had an hour every evening to try and figure out how the Slytherins might sabotage their game. Innately curious, he headed for the best vantage point on the field- the announcer's box.

_Pay close attention to the game as long as it is in progress. It is usually important to observe what the other players are doing._

The Ravenclaw team flitted across the field easily, flying better than Scorpius remembered as a first year sitting in the stands. But Scarmander? If he was the supposed hot new seeker, he was off his game tonight. Sure he was a decent flier, had an eye for the snitch. But he was no Potter, and certainly not at the level of Krum.

"See something you like out there, Malfoy?"

Scorpius jumped in surprise. Briefly, he thought perhaps it was Lysander sneaking up on him. But he would know Lorcan anywhere, was one of the few who could tell the twins apart. "What the hell are you doing here, Scarmander?"

Lorcan smirked, leaning against the door to the booth. "Hantin took Polyjuice potion. Haven't been to practice all week cause we knew you and your boys would try and pull something over on us. And here you are."

"Indeed. Here I am," Scorpius shot back, arms folding across his chest in challenge. Two could play at this game.

_Play for the sake of the game, and not merely to win. _

They stood in silence, caught in an intense staring contest which neither wished to loose. "You're a right prat, sometimes, you know that," Scorpius finally said, breaking the tension in the room.

Lorcan pouted, taking a seat in one of the rolling chairs that was designated for the Quidditch announcers. Pushing off the desk, he rolled over to Scorpius, stopping directly in front of him. "And why is that?"

"You could have bloody told me about the Polyjuice potion. I certainly hope it was _you _I spent the last two evenings with in the seventh floor broom closet."

Lorcan grinned. "Oh that was most definitely me," he said proudly. "You think I'd let Hantin steal what little time I get with you? Absolutely not. And in my defense, you did not tell me you were the spy for the Slytherin team."

_Bear no grudge against the winner in a fair field._

He could see Scorpius's face flush red in embarrassment, head dipping down. Lorcan felt a resound guilt flood him, knowing he'd inadvertently hit a tender wound.

"It's not like I didn't want to tell you. But I just barely get respect from the boys as it is, and it's only 'cause I'm the best beater in our house. They think I'm like my dad, a little weasel who'll rat out anybody. If I want even a chance to stay on the team, I have to do this. I can't… I don't…" He shuddered, just barely holding himself together. "I hate this…"

And Lorcan could understand, knowing what it was like to be trapped in the legacy of your parents. When everyone expected you to start talking about fantastical creatures and ramble about exotic expeditions in the Swedish mountains to get a blurred shot of what might be a crumpled-rumpled-snork-wrack-whatever.

That was Lysander. That was not him. But it might as well have been, if you listened to the rumor mongering.

"I get it," he said quickly, taking Scorpius's hand. "I get why you have to spy on us, and why we can't be together in public." Scorpius hadn't said it, but Lorcan knew that was part of what was bothering him. "But one day you'll realize, if I have to beat it into your bloody thick skull, that you are not your father. And you don't have to prove to the world that you are not him. You're Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin Beater and my boyfriend."

_Play for the success of your side or team and not for your individual glory. Many a game has been lost by the anxiety of certain men to shine as stars._

Scorpius wanted to cry, half in frustration over his own insecurity, half because he had no idea how he was lucky enough to have Lorcan in his life. They were as unlikely a couple, but somehow they had found a way to work and a way to keep it secret, despite the nosy prodding of their housemates and teachers. Pulling Lorcan to him, Scorpius embraced his boyfriend, feeling him kiss the top of his head.

"One day," he promised, "I'll be ready one day."

Scorpius hoped it would be soon. He just needed to find the courage to risk his heart and his reputation. The courage to ignore the voices that already talked behind his back.

"I know," Lorcan said optimistically. "And I'll be right here when you are. Now can we go back to the castle before your team realizes I've been up here distracting you?"

Scorpius nodded in agreement, holding Lorcan's hand tightly as they walked across the field, away from the Quidditch pitch.

_We are a young people, and after a time we shall wear off the glorious enthusiasm of youth from which we now suffer… _

In the end, Scorpius told Bruce exactly what he saw on the pitch that night. Lorcan Scarmander? Overrated at best. Honestly, the Ravenclaw team was probably lucky the kid could stay on his broom. It _was, _after all, exactly what he'd seen on the pitch that night.

In the end, Lorcan returned to regular team practices, much to the relief of his twin brother, who was quite confused by the fact that there were three Scarmander twins wandering the common room rather than the normal two. He told Carl that there was no need to worry about the Slytherin spy anymore- he'd taken care of everything. Made it clear that sort of behavior wouldn't be tolerated.

And in the end, it hadn't even mattered. Because in one of the most dramatic finishes in school history, after seven long hours in the rain, the game ended in a tie.

Really, it was quite the fluke. Ravenclaw needed a goal and to catch the snitch to defeat Slytherin. The little golden ball was in Lorcan's site, just a finger's touch away. And he _could _have waited until he was certain that Carl scored the goal, but why would he risk letting the Slytherin seeker grab it?

So he tied the game, and Carl and Bruce shook hands with death grips, staring daggers at their opponent. The two teams flew past each other, shaking hands and exchanging the words "good game." Or in the case of Lorcan and Scorpius, a "good game" and a wink.

_In the meantime, let us rejoice that we live so much in the open air_

Scorpius's face flushed red as he watched Lorcan swoop into the locker room, wishing he could be as openly affectionate as his boyfriend. Entering his own locker room, he found it abandoned and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Pulling off the purple socks he kept hidden under his regulation trainers, he headed for the showers, knowing in his heart that one day, he would be ready.

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><p><strong>Hey All! Hope you enjoyed the story. I don't normally write slash, so I have <em>no idea<em> if this was even any good. I just wanted to write a little something about the quotes I used through the story, which were really my inspiration. I've always imagined the rules for quidditch are written in a very old-fashioned manner, and I wanted to write this pairing in the sense of the game. So I googled, and found the article from 1911, and it read just how I imagined the quidditch regulation book would read [if you ignore the blatant sexism, such as "A woman should remember that in all sports requiring strength, she will be outclassed by most men."]. Anyway, the whole idea of sportsmanship, and exploring how these kids grew up in the shadow of their parents all really came together there. **

**Anyway, that's just my rambling. I hope you enjoyed the story, and any critical feedback would be greatly, greatly appreciated! Especially in writing slash, as I am rather new to this! -Jac**


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